


i can't stop thinking 'bout you

by lostboysoflondon



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Boys Kissing, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Smut, about 2 seconds of tennis player harry and lacrosse player louis, it's mostly harry pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:19:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9281942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostboysoflondon/pseuds/lostboysoflondon
Summary: Harry supposes Louis’ brash personality is only reserved for people he knows well. People that aren’t Harry, because honestly, Harry hasn’t spoken more than two sentences to Louis in his life.The thing is, Harry notices Louis far more that he would like and it’s become far too distracting.Or, after an unfortunate amount of time, Harry's useless staring finally pays off.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soyunamanzana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soyunamanzana/gifts).



> This is my first fic, so hopefully it's ok.
> 
> I feel like posting the prompt would give the story away so just read and enjoy:)  
>    
> Thank you so much sailingships for being a wonderful beta for this fic!
> 
> Fic title from "thinking bout you" by dua lipa

_Senior Year, Winter_

It’s not like Harry forgot it was finals week. It’s just, he forgot how much effort it took to prepare for not one, but seven different exams. Jesus, how did any of his teachers expect him to get any sleep this week? Not that Harry did any intense studying last night, or the night before. He just skimmed over some notes and probably won’t look at them again. Studying just stresses Harry out more. 

It’s a Tuesday in December, the chilling air seeps its way into Harry’s bones as he walks to St. Matthew’s Prep. It’s far too early to be thinking about exams, it's far too early to even be _moving_ , honestly. Although, the unfavorable weather truly suits the theme of finals week. It’s almost like December had to balance the happiness of Christmas with the morbid puddles of student tears. 

The doors of St. Matthews, in all their mahogany glory, seem like the beginning to an end. The end of Harry’s consecutive years of making it onto the Honor Roll, and probably the end to his Xbox privileges once his mom gets a hold of his semester grades. It’s not like Harry’s doing terrible in all his classes, just one in particular. The devil of all classes: Geography. Why does Harry need to memorize every capital city in Europe when he could just google it? More importantly, why does Harry need to know how to write said capitals directly onto a map of Europe as if a multiple-choice test wouldn’t suffice? 

Harry makes his way down the corridor towards his locker, conveniently located next to the library, although he never actually goes into the library. The space is too quiet for Harry’s liking and too murky to be comfortable. The school is still quite empty. Usually, Harry would just make it to school on time to hear the warning bell before first period began. This time, Harry’s mom insisted that he get to school as early as possible, “Then you’ll have time to study, darling.” Slumping against his locker, Harry leans his head back and closes his eyes, not intending to even _look_ at his Spanish notes this morning. If anything, being well-rested will help build his stamina for the dull, drawn-out exam process. 

But of course, _someone_ decides he’s undeserving of some nice, peaceful shut-eye. 

“Thanks so much, Mr. Clark,” a lilted voice flutters down the hall. Harry could fall asleep just listening to that voice. 

“I’ve been struggling so much this semester, so this extra study aid will help for sure,” the voice continues, sounding like Christmas chimes on a snowy day. 

Harry knows that voice of course. He’s _dreamt_ about that voice for over a year now, so falling asleep would be a wasted opportunity.

Squinting his eyes open, Harry can make out the boy - Louis - leaning against the doorframe of Mr. Clark’s Geography classroom. Mr. Clark’s furry gray beard just visible on the opposite side of the doorway. 

Harry can’t help but notice how Louis’ khaki pants cling perfectly to his sculpted legs, and how his maroon pullover sweater softens his look, making him look like a viable cuddling candidate.

His body is mesmerizing, appealing to Harry’s most obvious physical desires, but it's not _just_ his body that captivates him. 

Louis’ presence is what initially drew Harry in. Standing in the same vicinity as Louis meant witnessing something truly enchanting take place.

“It’s no problem, Louis,” Mr. Clark’s gruff voice interrupts Harry from his thoughts, “You should’ve come to see me the moment you felt troubled.” 

Harry doesn’t even realize Louis backing away from the door, he’s so caught up in watching the back of Louis’ neck and the way his hair wisps artfully over his smooth skin. 

“Harry, you’re not usually here this early,” Mr. Clark’s voice rumbles, making Harry flinch, now noticing Mr. Clark’s and Louis’ eyes narrowing on him. 

“Uh, no,” Harry looks down at his lap, Louis’ questioning eyes too much to bear. “Just wanted to study, I suppose.” 

“Well, you best study for your geography exam, your grades have been less than stellar this semester,” Mr. Clark’s words feel like a punch in the gut. 

Why did he have to say that in front of Louis? _How embarrassing._

When Harry’s eyes return upward, Louis’ face is tilted away from Harry, a small smirk playing at his lips. 

And Louis thinks it’s funny? _Rude_.

“Good day, boys,” Mr. Clark walks off, without a care of the inner turmoil he’s just caused Harry. 

Louis turns toward Harry, barring him a tiny wave of his hand and a barely there smile. There’s just a hint of redness on his cheeks before he retreats towards the library, leaving Harry completely disgruntled and tired, so very tired. 

+++

The thing about Louis is that he’s incredibly private. _Too private_. He’s closed off in a manner that makes him unapproachable and intimidating. 

He doesn’t dawdle to talk with friends after class, instead immediately packing his books as if he’s racing against the clock, taking off towards the door and out of sight. 

Even if Harry had the nerve to approach him, Louis would probably be uninterested. He’d probably feel inconvenienced that someone is attempting to interrupt his meticulous schedule. 

His behavior is odd because Louis doesn’t seem mean, or easily irritable. Rather, he’s constantly sparing smiles at teachers and fellow classmates when he passes them in the halls. At lunch, Louis’ voice can be heard loudest in the cafeteria, all bright laughs and teasing jokes directed at his closest group of friends.

Harry supposes Louis’ brash personality is only reserved for people he knows well. People that aren’t Harry, because honestly, Harry hasn’t spoken more than two sentences to Louis in his life. 

The thing is, Harry notices Louis far more that he would like and it’s become far too distracting.

+++

The silence is suffocating. The smell of dust and old wood and moldy carpeting wafts between Harry’s nostrils, making him cough. Every time he breathes he can taste the staleness of the air. 

Honestly, does anyone ever clean the library?

In all his years at St. Matthew’s, Harry has managed to avoid spending any time at the library. Studying is quite useless anyways. Harry has always done well in school without taking incredibly detailed notes or pouring obsessively over his books like so many students seem to be doing now. Heads bent over books, some mouthing the words of their notes like a mantra. Some have given up; heads lying on the study tables, nestled between their arms in obvious distress. If they weren’t in the quiet of the library, they’d probably be groaning in frustration. 

Harry must look like a fool sitting in one of the musty, albeit comfy, arm chairs with not one book nor notebook in sight. He imagines he doesn’t look stressed at all; instead, perfectly content to laze about until his AP Biology exam next period. 

Hm, maybe he should actually review his notes for that one. 

Harry’s not in the library to study, though. At least, he won’t be studying anything academic, per say. 

No. Harry decided to visit the library to study something else, or rather, someone else. 

Louis Tomlinson sits across the room, diligently flipping through notes calmly, almost methodically. 

Harry’s mom would murder him right now if she knew how he was spending his time in school.

“Oh, yes mom, I was rather productive today. I spent forty-five minutes staring at Louis Tomlinson’s fingers as they flipped the pages of his notebook.” 

Harry usually doesn’t follow Louis everywhere - that would be concerning. He’d be crossing a line for sure. Maybe if he takes his notes out he could avoid crossing that arbitrary line between infatuation and stalking. Harry could just pretend he had a change of heart about the importance of studying, deciding to hole up in the library to act studious, like a student in the top five of his class ought to act. 

Harry begins to shuffle through his backpack for his biology notebook, eyes downcast, forced to look at the horrid brown carpeting of the library. When he looks up, he meets blue. Louis’ eyes are trained on him, trance-like, as if he doesn’t realize he’s staring. Harry prefers it that way, so he can get away with blatantly staring back without Louis realizing. 

It’s better that way.

The trance ends rather quickly, though. Like a deer in headlights, Louis’ eyes widen and dart away, once again returning to his notes. Harry wonders if Louis could feel him staring this whole time. The overwhelming feeling of an unknown presence cataloging his every move like a ghost. 

Harry’s used to being obvious. Liam always warms Harry to “snap out of it” during Geography class when Harry can’t help but hang on to every word Louis says. 

Now that Harry thinks about it, why would Louis need extra help from Mr. Clark at all? Louis seems pretty smart in class, always asking insightful questions that Harry would never think to ask; or care to ask honestly. Louis always takes notes, and makes eye contact with Mr. Clark, nodding along like a good student should. 

Harry usually doodles and tries to distract Liam from paying attention, which is probably why Liam doesn’t even know the difference between North America and Europe on the map. 

Murmuring voices and shifting bodies alert Harry to the end of his study period. Glancing down at his notes, Harry sighs. Surely he can pass his Biology exam without studying, right? He’s always managed before. His previous confidence wanes dramatically, especially as he watched Louis attempt to swing his bag onto one shoulder while holding multiple pages of notes in his hands, his eyes focused on the pages, the shadow of his eyelashes brushing the top of his cheekbones delicately. 

Harry really needs to get a grip. 

Rising out of his chair, Harry hurries his steps to catch up to Louis. He doesn’t know what for, it's not like Harry has gained any courage during his time admiring Louis from afar, but his legs seem to move on their own accord.

If anything, Harry has lost a solid chunk of his dignity.

+++

Harry is keeping firm eye contact with Louis’ brown leather messenger bag, trying not to focus on the way Louis’ fuzzy hairs softly touch the back of his neck. 

Suddenly, the worst possible thing happens. It’s like Harry has unknowingly been trapped in a cheesy lifetime movie, the ones his mom always wants to watch with him for “family bonding time.”

A bundle of notecards drops from Louis’ bag. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise considering Harry noticed them steadily falling when he was diligently staring at Louis’ bag, but Harry begins to sweat anyways; his body reacting to the internal panic of actually _speaking_ to Louis.

Being the good Samaritan Harry is, he grabs the perfectly bundled, color-coordinated notecards because of course Louis would be perfectly organized, off the floor and calls out to Louis. 

In the moment it takes Louis to turn around, Harry’s heart stops, his stomach drops to the floor, and he wishes he had never come to the library in the first place. 

Harry doesn’t even realize Louis is speaking to him until he feels a hand gently touch his shoulder, a warm presence jerking Harry out of his thoughts only to realize Louis’ face is closer than it should be. 

“Harry, are you ok? You look a bit pale,” Louis' eyebrows knit together slightly, lips downturned. He seems concerned. 

Harry wishes he could squeeze his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to look at Louis, lovely, thoughtful, Louis.

“Uh, yeah, I feel fine,” Harry mumbles, eyes straying to Louis’ brown and beige boat shoes in an attempt to stop himself from trying to count Louis’ eyelashes, “You, erm, dropped your notecards.”

Harry thrusts his hand out, biting his lip to give him something to focus on other than the way Louis’ fingers delicately take the notecards from him, gently peeling Harry’s fingers away because Harry can’t seem to move. 

“Thanks, Harry, so much,” Harry can hear the smile in Louis’ voice, he wishes he could make himself smile back. “I’d be so lost without these, Geography is tough,” Louis laughs softly. 

Harry chances a look up, instantly blinded by the broadness of Louis’ mouth when he smiles and the way his eyes crinkle into thin lines that somehow make him so much more beautiful. 

“No problem,” Harry whispers, his heart has calmed. He wonders if Louis could hear it fiercely thumping before. 

“Well, I should be off...class and all that,” Louis takes a step back and suddenly Harry is reminded that the warmth of Louis’ body, the touch of his hand now gone from his shoulder, the feeling of closeness, is unfamiliar, and Harry is likely to never feel it again. 

“But I’ll see you at lunch, yeah?” Louis’ mouth turns up, his body retreating backward towards the library doors, lifting his hand in a small wave, just like deja vu from this morning.

Harry nods, unthinking, and Louis is gone from sight. Harry’s probably going to be late for his AP Biology exam, but his brain has stopped working, feet refusing to move forward. 

Wait, did Louis say lunch?

+++

“Seriously, Harry, if I don’t get help I’m going to fail Calculus,” Liam walks briskly towards the lunch room; Harry trailing behind, about two seconds from grabbing Liam’s arm to pull him back. He can already feel heat spread throughout his body, his cheeks feeling warm.

“Hate to break it to you, man, but if you don’t know it by now there’s probably no hope for you,” 

Liam huffs out a laugh, despite Harry’s obvious insult, “What’s got you all worked up? Did your AP Bio exam go well?” 

Ha. His AP Biology exam was a breeze. Except for the first ten minutes where Harry couldn’t find the air to breathe and Mrs. Rosen asked if he needed to go to the nurse's office. 

Another embarrassing moment to add to Harry’s incredibly long list of embarrassing moments from today. 

“Yeah, it was great, but can we please sit at our usual table, today?” Harry’s not too proud to beg, he’ll get on his knees right here, in the hallway, with student witnesses who will most likely make fun of Harry for the rest of the year.

Although, Harry would rather be on his knees under different circumstances, preferably naked, with a certain someone’s fingers playing with his curls.

“No, Harry, we all can’t be geniuses like you,” Liam mocks, composure unraveling, “Perrie already agreed to help me, so that’s that.” 

“I’m not a _genius_ , Liam, you think too highly of me,” Harry smirks, angling up to Liam’s side hoping to ease the slight tension, evident by the way Liam’s jaw is locked, broad shoulders tight as he walks. “I just process information quickly and retain it longer than necessary,” Liam’s mouth quirks up. _Success._

They round the corner, lunch room in full view, and of course Louis is already seated in his usual seat, in between Perrie and Niall, looking incredibly appealing even from far away. 

Liam stops suddenly. Harry runs straight into his muscled back, a brief pulse of pain in his nose area makes him quite certain that the universe is out to get him today, and she’s completely unforgiving. 

“Is this about Louis,” Liam turns to face him, his question sounding more like an accusation. 

“Liam, please. I can’t pretend i'm not staring at him all lunch,” he whispers, aware of the people milling around them.

“Maybe this is your chance to finally talk to him, yeah?” The reassuring tone of Liam’s voice would be nice if not for the mischievous glint in his eye, the “I’m up to something” look that Harry would rather not have directed at him. 

“Well, I already-” Harry starts, but Liam is already walking away, waving at Perrie, smiling at Louis, directing a “hey man,” at Niall, and Harry is stuck wondering why he can’t ever find the right words to say.

+++

They’ve been sitting in relative silence for a few minutes now. The mumbled voices of Liam and Perrie studying for their calculus exam can barely be heard above the unbridled chatter from the surrounding lunch tables. 

Harry continues to slowly rip apart his peanut butter sandwich, piece by piece, without actually eating a bite. He focuses on the movement of his fingers, the way the bread crumbles in his hands. 

He doesn’t look up. He doesn’t see Louis shrug helplessly at Niall, he doesn’t see Perrie glance over at him worriedly. 

Upon reaching the lunch table, Louis immediately brightens, directing his attention at Harry with a wide smile and an “Are you feeling better?” To which Harry stood in shock because Louis is worried about him?

The awkward pause only lasts a second before Harry forces himself to respond, smiling hesitantly, “Much better, thanks.” 

He tries to sound cheerful. “The dust in the library must’ve gotten to me,” he laughs lightly. “Sensitive nose, ya know?”

Liam snorts from across the table and Harry’s confidence wanes, like a half-inflated balloon prematurely coming undone. He sits down to unpack his lunch to avoid watching Niall muffle his laughter as he takes a bite of his ham sandwich. 

So now it’s silent, uncomfortably so, the absence of Louis’ normally animated voice changing the atmosphere of the usual lunchroom experience. 

Harry has never sat with Louis before, but he always imagined getting to hear Louis talk about his day, listening to all his ideas, learning about the things that make him tick.  


“-wish they would talk, they’d both be less miserable,” Harry hears Perrie whisper to Liam. 

So, Harry decides to take a chance. He looks up, only to find Louis already staring at him; smirking,

_Why is it that he’s always smirking?_

“Um...enjoying your clementine?” Harry nods at the tiny orange fruit in Louis’ hand, cute, just like Louis.

A snorting sound comes from someplace at the table. _Great_ , but Harry doesn’t pay them any mind because Louis is smiling at him, eye crinkles and all. 

“Mmm, juicy,” Louis laughs softly. “It's a fine clementine if I do say so myself.” Louis pretends to examine it. If Harry wasn’t so endeared, he would think Louis was making fun of him. 

It’s not entirely unlikely. Louis seems like a tease. 

There’s a glistening in Louis’ eyes, the same kind of glistening that occurs when a ray of sunlight hits the surface of the ocean. It’s playful as if Louis’ eyes are dancing.

The simple act of Louis looking at him with such sincerity makes him feel alive. 

“Have you studied for our geography exam, then?”

No...no he has not. 

“No?” Harry’s voice sounds unsure. If only he had a bit more confidence. 

“Don’t normally have to study, got a good memory,” Harry mumbles.

 _Wow._ Now he sounds like a dick. Maybe he’d get farther if he kept his mouth shut and went back to uselessly staring. 

“I suppose not, with all that natural talent you have,” Louis shakes his head, mouth set in a tight line. A ‘gifted’ student, isn’t that what Ms. Winfrey always used to say?”

Niall grabs Louis’ arm and squeezes, shaking his head exasperatedly.

Ah yes, lovely Ms. Winfrey. His old English teacher. She did use to say that all the time. 

Now Harry wishes she hadn’t. 

Louis probably thinks Harry revels in that kind of shallow praise, but it’s always made him feel rather useless. Harry sends a small shrug towards Louis trying to ease the tension, but Louis’ eyes are cast away, he’s packing up his lunch in haste as if he couldn’t wait to get away from Harry. 

The bell rings, the students start to file out of the cafeteria, and Harry is left alone with a pat on the back from Liam, and a newfound sense of relief that he won’t have to see Louis for a while once the semester is over. 

+++

_Sophomore Year, Spring, 2 Years Ago_

“Liam, I swear to God if you hit the ball over the fence one more time, I’ll lock you in the supply shed for the night.”

They’re at the courts, the March air still chilling even with the sun being out. 

Liam passes Harry a new ball, “Jeez, at least I’ve never _hit_ you with the ball.” 

Harry only hit Liam one time, but he never fails to use it against him. 

Harry serves the ball, calling “game point" as his left-hand tosses the ball into the air, his right hand gripping his racquet as he brings it above his head. He swings down at an angle, using all his strength to propel the ball just barely over the net, where Liam _just_ misses it with his racquet. 

Harry scores and laughs as Liam groans in defeat

Harry’s body is on fire, sweat dripping across his back, the wetness visible through his thin, long sleeve sweatshirt. His black leggings stick uncomfortably to his legs. 

The rest of the team is wearing shorts and t-shirts. Idiots, all of them.

The slightest chill causes Harry’s muscles to tense up, his bones become stiff; he’d be absolutely useless in shorts. 

“If you lock me in there, we won’t be able to do our Spanish homework together tonight!” Liam calls back, getting into position to serve, ready to start a new game. 

_True._ Harry would rather not conjugate irregular verbs all by himself. 

In an attempt to get Liam back for being logical, Harry hits the incoming ball with all his strength. 

And the ball goes…right over the fence. 

Harry sighs, Liam’s cackles fill Harry’s head as he jogs outside the courts and around the fence to retrieve the ball. 

There’s a decent sized ditch. About the length of the tennis courts with a steep enough decline that if Harry were to trip and fall, he might break his neck. No, he would _certainly_ break his neck. 

Regardless, the ditch is home to all the lost tennis balls. The tall, soggy grass conceals even the brightest, highlighter green tennis balls from detection, not to mention Harry’s tennis shoes always end up getting wet.  


A truly uncomfortable experience, wet shoes. 

Harry gathers a few tennis balls and piles them onto his racquet, a tennis player trick, when he comes across a scuffed blue lacrosse ball. 

Harry’s about to slip it onto his racquet with the tennis balls, planning to return it to the lacrosse shed after practice when he hears a distant, “Didn’t take you for a thief, Racquet Boy.”

And then he sees him. 

The boy has soft, chestnut colored hair, weighed down by sweat and the confines of a helmet which is now held in his hand, his mouth upturned in a blinding smile. 

If Harry was living in a bad romance film, this would be the moment where he drops his racquet, tennis balls rolling back into the ditch, too much in awe to care about his wet shoes or anything else, really. 

Harry controls himself, though, only stumbling slightly in surprise.

The boy is wearing shorts, tanned skin accentuating the muscles in his calves. Harry hopes he isn’t drooling. His tongue feels heavy, mouth threatening to spring open. 

This boy is just his type, but he can’t remember his name for the life of him.

Harry’s seen him around school, usually standing by his locker, talking to Niall. His loud voice echoes across the hall and Harry is struck by how effortless he seems when he talks. The words just flow right out of him in a way that almost makes Harry jealous.

“Hey,” Harry replies dumbly.

“Mind tossin’ me that ball back, um-” the boy stops, squinting at him in question.

“Oh, uh, m’name’s Harry.” He tries to smile but he can’t make his face work properly. 

The boy’s smile continues to grow, threatening to split open his face. He’s so bright, like a fresh tennis ball, right out of the package. 

“Okay, Harry. Or can I call you Racquet Boy, instead?” The boy winks, “Toss me the ball, yeah?” 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Harry under hands him the ball. “And only if I can call you Helmet Head.” Harry tries to wink but it feels like more of a half-squint. 

The boy snorts, but Harry can’t bring himself to be offended because even the scrunched-up snorting face the boy makes is cute.

The embarrassment of talking to someone so much out of his league creeps up on Harry, he can feel himself blushing madly, seriously hoping that the boy doesn’t notice the redness of his cheeks. 

_Helmet head? Really?_

This is all Liam’s fault. 

“Harry, what are-,” Liam’s voice interrupts his internal pity session. “Oh, hi Louis," Liam stands at the top of the ditch, racquet in hand, but all Harry can hear is _Louis._ "How’s lacrosse treating you?"

“It’s going great so far,” Louis’ chipper voice sounds like birds singing on an early Spring morning. "I’m so glad coach is letting me play even though I just transferred in.”

Harry wants to know everything there is to know about Louis. Why did he just transfer to school? What position does he play in lacrosse? How does he make his voice sound raspy yet melodic, like hot, flowing caramel syrup drizzled on cold vanilla ice cream? 

Harry needs to leave, but he can’t make himself move, too enamored by simply standing in Louis’ presence. 

“Harry, we gotta go. Coach thought you got lost or something. You’ve been out here for so long.” 

“It wouldn’t be hard to get lost in this ditch,” Louis adds, laughter in his voice. “All you have to do is trip, fall, and crack your neck and you’d be good as gone in this grass.” 

“Yeah, Liam,” Harry mumbles, avoiding looking anywhere in Louis’ direction. "Let’s go back,” he turns and begins to walk back up the steep ditch. Louis and Liam say their ‘goodbyes’ and ‘see you tomorrows’ behind him. 

It was probably rude of him to leave without even a smile or a small wave, but all Harry can focus on the squelching of his shoes as he walks, and the trail of mud he leaves behind. 

+++

_Present Day, Geography Exam_

The geography classroom is quiet. Mr. Clark stepped out of the room to chat with a fellow teacher down the hall, leaving harry alone with enough space to panic, hands slightly shaking with nerves.

Last night, Harry was too exhausted to go over his notes. He couldn’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to fail. But that’s not even the worst part of his mind’s relentless chatter. What would Louis think of him if he failed?

Louis. Intelligent, hardworking, beautiful Louis. The same Louis that completely ignored him at lunch today.

Well…he ignored _everyone_ at lunch today, deciding to forego his usual banter to instead flip determinedly through his geography notecards. The same notecards that Harry touched yesterday. 

Harry swears he can still feel the gentle pressure of Louis’ hand on his shoulder. He can still feel the ghost of Louis’ fingers touching his own. 

Now, Harry is currently staring at the practice map of Europe that Mr. Clark passed out a week ago. A study aid of sorts to help the students memorize every country and capital city they had learned about this whole semester.

Harry’s map remains empty. The only ink shed on the paper are tiny teacup doodles, scattered around the map outline. Probably because Louis mentioned his affinity for a proper cup of tea, Britain-style, in the middle of Mr. Clark’s confession of drinking green tea every morning. The entire class laughed while Harry remembers hiding his face in the sleeve of his maroon sweater, not wanting Louis to notice his uncontrollable smile.

It’s been a full semester of sitting next to Louis in class, and Harry still remains the pathetic, hopeless boy with the biggest crush and the smallest voice. 

+++

Harry’s going to fail this exam. There’s no question about it because _what in God’s name is the capital of Ireland?_

“It’s Dublin.” Harry almost jumps out of his chair.

_Shit. Did he say that out loud?_

“Yup, are you okay, Harry? You seem a bit tense,” Louis says, eyebrows pinched together in concern.

_When did he even walk in?_

A cold hand touches his forehead, gentle and soft. Harry melts into the touch, not even thinking about how fast and easy his walls are crumbling. All he wants is for Louis’ hand to never leave his skin.

“You feel a bit warm, love.”

Harry chokes, moving his face away from Louis’ reach.

 _Love._ He can’t just say things like that.

Harry regains his composure, sending a timid smile in Louis’ direction, “’M fine, just a bit stressed ‘s all.” 

Students begin to file in - Liam included - the quietness of the classroom suddenly becoming electric with everyone frantically looking over notes and quizzing each other.

Louis leans into Harry’s space, smiling reassuringly, “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Harry. Aren’t you at the top of the class anyways?”

Harry knows Louis’ words are meant to be kind, but he feels queasy with regret as if he doesn’t deserve to be at such a high rank when he didn’t even make the effort to study for a simple geography exam. 

“Yeah, Harry,” Liam adds from Harry’s other side, “I’m sure you managed to pick up some things just from sitting in class every day, even if you were a bit…distracted,” Liam winks. 

Harry wants to hit him. 

When Harry turns back to face the front of the classroom, Mr. Clark is now gathering up the exams, starting to pass them out to the students in the front row. He can see Louis’ face in his peripheral, looking at Harry, seemingly confused. 

When Harry finally receives his exam, he feels too many things at once: shame, fear, exhaustion, but most of all, he feels hopeful. 

+++

Ten minutes into the exam and Harry feels hopeless. He’s managed to fill in some obvious answers in the multiple-choice section, but the fill-in map section stares back at him tauntingly. 

Meanwhile, Harry can hear the scraping of pencils dragging across papers throughout the classroom, while Harry’s pencil remains clutched in his hand.

Next to him, Harry hears Louis writing frantically, as if he’s trying to set a record time for completing the exam. 

Harry looks to the front of the room, Mr. Clark sitting in the soft padded swivel chair behind his desk, right leg crossed over his left knee, eyes floating back and forth on the page of his book; completely engrossed in his reading. 

So, Harry takes a chance. He sneakily glances at Louis’ paper, trying to decipher his messy handwriting without being too obvious. He sees the beginning of a word Stock- and he suddenly remembers Stockholm, Sweden, adding it to his map. Harry’s never been a cheater. The desire to cheat has never been necessary, usually, other students try to cheat off of him. Which makes this whole cheating situation much worse. He develops a rhythm. Glance quickly at Louis’ exam, write every letter he sees, look up at Mr. Clark and repeat. 

Harry is halfway done with filling out his map when he glances again at Louis’ map only to see the words _Can I help you?_ in the space where Germany’s capital should be. 

Shit. Harry feels his face pale, skin going taught. Louis probably hates cheaters, especially since he works so hard in school. Louis probably regrets telling him that Dublin is the capital of Ireland. He probably regrets ever speaking to him. 

When Harry peeks in Louis’ direction, he’s met with raised eyebrows, an amused look on his face. Then, Louis resumes writing, Harry’s attention still drawn to him.

_Didn’t study, huh?_

Harry reads off Louis’ paper. He shakes his head meekly, wishing he didn’t have to admit it. 

_I can help you._

Honestly, what did Harry do to deserve this? He’s completely baffled by Louis’ eagerness to help him, trying to school his expression into something less-shocked. He nods, mouthing Please. 

_On one condition._

_Oh._ Louis’ eyes are on him, scanning his face. His open expression makes him look young, his eyes soft and earnest as they meet Harry’s. Louis mouths something to him, face paling immediately after his lips stop moving. 

_What?_ Harry mouths back. Louis lets out an audible sigh, his eyes go wide in panic when he realizes he made a sound. Harry goes still, holding his breath as if he’s hiding in a closet with a crazy axe murderer looming outside the door. 

When he looks up, Mr. Clark is still reading, seemingly unbothered. Harry’s shoulders fall in relief. When he turns back to Louis he sees something new scribbled onto his map; Harry blinks a few times, not knowing if he’s just seeing things or if those words really mean what they say.

_Will you go out with me? :)_

Harry chokes, the sound raucous and loud. Harry feels the stares of his classmates burning into him. Mr. Clark curiously moves from his chair to assess the situation. 

“What’s going on here boys?” His eyes are calculating, moving back and forth between Harry and Louis.

Harry tries to speak but all that comes out is air. Hovering over their desks, Mr. Clark examines Louis’ exam, eyebrows pinching together, lips downturned. A flash of disappointment appears on his face before a more serious, stony expression takes over.  


This is it. Harry’s going to get expelled. He won’t even get to graduate from high school. He just singlehandedly ruined his life all because he was too distracted to study for a simple, Geography exam.

“Tomlinson. Styles. I expected better of you two.” Mr. Clark grabs both of their exams, ripping them apart on the spot; the sound jarring, interrupting the shocked stillness of the classroom. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he walks away, back turned to them, “We’ll discuss this matter later,” his tone reeks of finality.

“Yes, sir,” Louis and Harry reply simultaneously, both voices quiet and subdued. Harry gathers his things, eyes directed at the floor trying to avoid the stares. 

He feels Louis’ presence behind him as they both step out of the classroom and into the hallway. The whole school is silent, exam week giving off an eerie vibe, much different from the endless noise that can be heard on any normal day of school.

Harry feels warmth near his right shoulder, Louis bumping his own shoulder against him trying to get his attention. Harry turns his head slightly only to feel the warm press of lips against his ear, a breathy voice stating, “You never answered my question.”

Harry turns to face Louis fully. He narrows his eyes in confusion, “Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Louis. I-” Harry starts exasperatedly, hands flying to his head, fingers pulling his curls in frustration. “I just made you fail Geography!”

Louis steps forward, hands reaching up to untangle Harry’s fingers from his hair, instead, circling his hands around Harry’s wrist, rubbing at the soft skin.

Harry breathes out heavily. He’s so overwhelmed he could cry right now. How is Louis so calm about getting caught _cheating?_

“You studied so hard for this test - you always takes notes and spend time in the library! You were mad at me yesterday for saying I don’t have to study and here I am, ruining all your chances at success because I couldn’t focus long enough in class since I was too busy staring at _you!_ ”

He feels tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Not only has he practically admitted to liking Louis, but now he’s crying right in front of him. 

But Louis is gently rubbing his wrists, the softest motions soothing Harry’s racing heart, a soft smile playing on his lips. Louis’ whole presence radiating patience and compassion. Not a hint of anger present in his features.

Wiping the tears from Harry’s eyes, Louis whispers “That’s probably the most you’ve ever spoken to me at one time.”

A laugh bubbles from Harry’s chest, Louis’ sparkling laugh joining his; the only sound breaking the silence of the hallway. 

“Failing one exam isn’t going to ruin my life, Harry,” Louis begins more seriously, tangling his fingers between Harry’s and squeezing. “And it’s not going to ruin yours, either. We’ll suffer the consequences of cheating together and both our moms will probably ground us,” he laughs, eyes crinkling as if being grounded isn’t that much of a threat. 

“Ok,” Harry nods, feeling reassured, his breathing even, though confusion still whirring in his brain. 

“So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Louis steps closer, closer than he stood at the library, closer than he’s ever been.”

“Will you go on a date with me?” Louis’ cheeks pinken just by asking the question.

Harry imagines his face is much worse, probably strawberry red, ready to burst with emotion.

“Yes,” he breathes, head shaking in disbelief, “I’d love to.” 

The unbounded smile that appears on Louis’ face is better than anything Harry has ever seen before.

Harry feels limitless. 

+++

_3 Weeks Later_

They’re lying side by side beneath the navy blue covers of Louis’ bed, keeping warm from the freezing air outside. Harry’s restless, questions looming in his mind about things he hasn’t dared to ask Louis yet. 

He shifts his feet under the covers, rubbing his bare toes against Louis’ calves, the warm, smooth skin igniting Harry’s skin. 

Harry shifts onto his side, sliding closer to Louis, wanting to feel his warmth against his body. 

“Louis,” he slides his fingers into Louis’ fringe, scratching his head tenderly.

“Hmm,” Louis is lying on his back, eyes closed, worn out from the snowball fight they had outside earlier.

“I have a question.”

“I’m listening.” 

Harry doesn't know why he feels so nervous. Sure, their relationship is new, but they’ve melded together so well right after Louis asked him out a few weeks ago. Harry almost feels like they’ve wasted so much time not being friends.

“When did you know you liked me?” 

The space that surrounds them is quiet; the only sounds to be heard coming from their soft breaths; chests rising and falling peacefully.

Louis’ eyes open blearily, his gaze finding Harry’s after a few seconds delay.

“When I first saw you...I thought you were so cute,” Louis chuckles fondly, Harry can’t help but smile.

“You were standing by your locker, getting your books ready for class. I thought you looked really good in your khakis.”

Harry snuggles closer to him, wrapping his arms around Louis’ middle, the sweatshirt he’s wearing is soft to the touch.

“I started to go to the library for my study period every day just so I’d get the chance to see you.”

“I had no idea,” Harry whispers, hiding his face in Louis’ neck; the smell of cocoa butter fills his nose, making him snuggle further.

“Well, yeah, “Louis laughs, “you’re so damn oblivious, I couldn’t even manage to make eye contact with you!”

Harry smiles, feeling comforted by the fact that while he thought Louis was untouchable, Louis probably thought the same about Harry; both of them stealthy in regards to their obnoxious crushes on each other.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Louis whispers, “Ever since that day near the tennis courts, I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

The confession makes Harry’s heart throttle; the thought of him not wanting Louis was difficult to wrap his head around. 

“You made me nervous.” 

Louis hums, rubbing his hands across Harry’s back.

“After a while, I decided you were too much of a distraction. I was a transfer student and I wanted to be able to prove myself, ya know?”

Harry nods, raising his head to watch Louis’ face as he talks.

“I’m so glad I was too distracted by you to take good Geography notes,” Harry leans down, brushing his lips lightly against Louis’ own; just a ghost of a touch, but the energy running through Harry’s veins is heavy with the need to be as close to Louis as possible.

“Me too,” Louis breathes into Harry’s mouth; his taste intoxicating, and when Harry’s lips gently close the gap between them, he can’t help feeling that all the waiting was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you want to contact me my tumblr is [here](http://lostboysoflondon.tumblr.com/)!


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